#phantom thread x invisible string

[jennyboom21]

Phantom thread is another way to say invisible string...

Funny that?

[mrs-kozu]

𝐂𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝’𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 ~ 𝐊.𝐊𝐨𝐳𝐮𝐦𝐞

READ CUPID’S THREAD Cpt.2 “THANKS TO CUPID” HERE

pairing: kenma kozume x fem! reader 『キューピッド』

genre: soulmate au, romance, no angst just fluff, strangers to lovers, high school sweethearts

prologue: There are stories told in hushed voices and idle dreams, of invisible threads stitched by ancient hands—Cupid’s gift, or his curse. They say each person is born with a thread, fine as spider silk and unbreakable, that leads to their soulmate. You cannot see it, only feel its pull: a phantom tether buried in your chest, tugging toward a stranger whose name you somehow already know. You never believed in such things. Not truly. Until the day you met Kenma Kozume.

Nekoma High was a place of quiet routines and hallway echoes. Morning announcements. Chalk scraping against old blackboards. The low hum of lives not yet fully lived.

You had transferred mid-semester, another new school in a string of too many. You moved like a ghost through corridors that weren’t yours yet, eyes down, footsteps soft, careful not to leave too much of yourself behind in any one place.

And then—you felt it.

It was during lunch. You stepped outside to the back courtyard, the only place where silence felt gentle rather than lonely. You hadn't seen him at first, hunched under the bare-boned tree, the glow of a handheld console illuminating his face.

But the moment you crossed the threshold, something inside you jolted.

A pull. Not violent, but intimate. Like the echo of a name spoken in a dream you’d forgotten. Your heart paused—then stuttered forward, as if adjusting to a new rhythm.

He looked up.

Golden hair, half-shadowed. Eyes like stormlight. He blinked, as though surprised to see you. No—as if he recognized you.

Kenma Kozume was not someone most people noticed. He didn’t invite attention, didn’t chase it, didn’t need it. He had long ago built a quiet world around himself, soft and unobtrusive, where he could exist without expectation.

But the moment he saw you, everything stilled.

The game in his hands was suddenly weightless. The air shimmered around the space between you, thick with something unsaid. Something ancient.

His chest ached.

And though he’d never felt it so vividly before, Kenma knew what it was.

The thread.

You looked at him like you knew the same truth. Still, neither of you spoke. Silence stretched, soft as snowfall. But you broke it first. “Do you mind if I sit here?” He shook his head. “No. It’s… fine.” And that was it.

Not a confession. Not a declaration. Just the first movement in a symphony neither of you had realized you’d already started composing together.

The days after unraveled slowly.

You returned each lunch break, book in hand, sitting beneath that same skeletal tree. He never asked your name—you offered it instead. He didn’t speak much, and you didn’t force it. There was a reverence to the quiet between you, something deeper than the ordinary scaffolding of friendship.

And beneath it all, the thread grew taut.

You felt it in the way your heart stilled when he laughed, low and rare. In the way his eyes lingered half a second longer than they should. In the way you could feel him enter a room before you even saw him. He felt it too.

Kenma would lie awake some nights, headphones forgotten, game consoles silent. He’d press his hand flat against his chest and wonder how a thread so delicate could feel so heavy.

He didn’t believe in fate.

But he believed in you.

One afternoon, it was raining—soft, silver rain that made the world feel far away. You sat beside him under the tree, your umbrella between you like a shared secret.And then you said it.

“I think…we’re connected.” He didn’t ask what you meant. He couldn’t. Because he’d known since the first time your eyes met. “…I feel it too,” he whispered, barely audible beneath the patter of rain. “The thread.”

A beat passed. Two heartbeats. Maybe three. And then you smiled—gentle, real. “Then, I guess we’ve found…each other.”

Kenma looked at you, truly looked, and for the first time in a long while, the future didn’t feel like something to hide from. The thread had led him here. To you.

And suddenly, high school didn’t feel so temporary anymore.

It had been two weeks since the rain.

Since the umbrella. Since the confession that was never spoken, the admission that felt like opening a window into some place deeper. Since the quiet, sacred exchange beneath the tree where your hands had almost touched, not quite brave enough to close the last distance.

The thread had been quiet since then—but not absent. You still felt it in your sternum, that fine hum beneath your bones. But now it wasn’t a question. Now it was a promise.

And Kenma—Kenma felt it every time you said his name.

He hadn’t meant for this to happen. He’d built a life around distance. Around being unseen. Unreachable. But you sat beside him like you were meant to. Like the space at his side had been shaped in your image long before he’d ever met you. It scared him.

Because now, the world felt like it could hurt in new ways. There were no grand gestures. No sudden sparks or cinematic moments. Just little things. The slow miracle of knowing. Like the way you waited for him at the back gate before school. The way you brought a second energy drink because you’d noticed which one he always bought from the vending machine. The way he, without thinking, shifted his desk an inch closer to yours during class.

You never spoke of the thread again. But it was always there—unseen, steady. A warmth at the edge of every glance.

And then came the game.

“Kenma,” you said one morning, your breath clouding in the crisp autumn air, “you’re on the volleyball team, right?”

He hesitated. “Yea..I’m the setter. I mostly analyze… strategies.”. You tilted your head, smiling. “That sounds like a brain I’d trust with just about anything.”

He looked away, ears faintly red. You continued, “There’s a practice match next week. Can I come?” Kenma’s throat tightened. He wasn’t used to being seen, not like that. The idea of you in the bleachers, watching him—not because you had to, but because you wanted to—did something strange to his heartbeat.

“…Yeah,” he said quietly. “You can come.”

The gym was noisy, warm with movement and echoing with sneakers against waxed floors. You found a spot on the top bleacher, heart thudding louder than it should. You didn’t know the rules. You didn’t care. Your eyes found him instantly. Kenma, in motion. Sharp, thoughtful, silent. He moved like someone who didn’t want to be watched—but deserved to be. And when he glanced up, almost by accident, his gaze locked with yours.

And in that moment—you saw it. A shimmer. Just for a second. The faintest glint of silver, trailing from his chest to yours, like moonlight caught in a spiderweb.

You gasped, hand flying to your heart.

Kenma stilled, mid-step. His eyes widened, just slightly—but it was enough.

He had seen it too. The thread. No longer imagined. No longer hidden. Real.

Later, beneath the familiar tree where it had all begun, he met you in the soft hush between dusk and night.

Neither of you spoke at first. You simply sat, shoulders touching. The thread, now visible in moonlight, arched delicately between you. It didn’t glow constantly—only in stillness, in silence. As if it only revealed itself when words fell away.

“I didn’t think it would be like this,” he said finally, voice hushed. “Like what?” you asked. He exhaled, slow. “So… quiet. So real. Like it’s been here all along, waiting.”

You turned your face to him, eyes soft. “Me neither.” Kenma reached out, tentative, fingers grazing yours—and this time, you didn’t pull away. Your hands fit like puzzle pieces long separated. And the thread shimmered between your joined palms like a secret finally shared.

He looked down, then up at you. “…Does it scare you?”

You smiled. “Only a little. But not enough to let go.”

And in the silence that followed, the thread glowed brighter. Not fate. Not destiny. Just you and him, choosing each other. Again. And again. And again. Even in a world ruled by Cupid’s threads… love, after all, was still a choice.

a/n: btw yes…this story was very rushed so not much background to the characters just how you guys meet and your future <3 (sorry)

[moonmaiden1996]

Pollen's Pull- Chapter 1

Part of my pollen series- Check out my Shanks X Reader for the first in the series. Warning-some chapter are 18+

Law stared down at the faint powder shimmering under the secure glass slide, the clips locking it away from causing further harm. Its crystalline texture refracted the dim laboratory light, each glint a mocking illusion of innocence. It looked harmless—a fine, innocuous dust that might drift unnoticed on a breeze or settle on an idle surface. But Law knew better. Anything born from a Devil Fruit was never harmless.

His hand trembled-just every so slightly- a tremble that only his visitor would have noticed as he raised it to his face.The phantom sensation lingered—gritty, alive, burning into his nerves like a scar. It clung to him in a way that defied explanation, the memory of its touch seared into his mind. The storm inside his head churned—a violent collision of disbelief, fury, and something darker he dared not name.

"I don’t believe it," he muttered, his voice raw, breaking under the strain. "It shouldn’t affect me. I’m a Devil Fruit user—I should be immune," he barked, anger lacing his words as they clawed at the edges of reason.

Across the room, Mihawk’s golden eyes gleamed like twin blades, cutting through the charged air with ease. The swordsman exuded calm detachment, his indifference a stark counterpoint to Law’s storm. With a faint shrug, Mihawk adjusted the cuffs of his coat, each movement deliberate and dismissive.

"Believe it or not, Trafalgar, it makes no difference," Mihawk said, his tone cold and edged with impatience. "I’ve delivered my warning. What you do with it is no concern of mine."

Law’s glare intensified, his voice slicing through the air like a whip. "You expect me to accept this? To believe some nonsense about Devil Fruit pollen? If you’ve allowed yourself to be manipulated by one of Doc Q’s twisted experiments, that’s your business. But I won’t be dragged into your delirium."

The tension between them thickened, an unspoken challenge crackling in the space between words. Mihawk’s lip curled into a faint sneer, disdain etched into the lines of his face.

"If that’s your wish," Mihawk replied, his voice deliberate, each word a blade. "But resisting it will be... unpleasant. For someone as headstrong as you, Trafalgar, it will get far worse."

Law’s smirk was sharp and brittle, defiance flickering in his narrowed eyes. "Maybe I should rid you of whatever parasite has latched onto you. It might snap you out of this madness."

The shift was instantaneous. One moment Mihawk was seated across the room; the next, he was a blur of shadow and steel. Yoru’s cold, unyielding edge pressed against Law’s throat, its bite a silent promise.

"This visit was a courtesy," Mihawk hissed, his voice low and venomous, more verdict than threat. "We hunt the true offender, and there is no connection to Blackbeard’s crew. Take that as you will. But threaten her again..." His eyes bore into Law’s, unflinching. "...and not even you will be able to put yourself back together."

For a breathless moment, the silence was a blade of its own. Law’s chest heaved, his pride smoldering alongside his fury. Then, with the grace of a predator, Mihawk sheathed Yoru and turned, his coat billowing behind him as he strode from the room.

Law remained where he was, his body rigid, his composure fractured. The sting of Mihawk’s blade lingered like an accusation, cutting deeper than flesh.

xxxxxxxxxx

The pull began immediately.

At first, it was subtle—a whisper at the edges of his consciousness, a faint tug urging him forward. It was like a stray thought he couldn’t quite shake, a nagging feeling just outside his grasp. But as the days passed, the pull became a demand, relentless and consuming. It twisted its hooks into his very being, threading through every fiber of his body until he was little more than a marionette tugged along by invisible strings. Just like Domflamingo. 

His body rebelled against his attempts to resist. Muscles locked in defiance whenever he tried to move in the wrong direction—away from the pull. It was as though his own will had been commandeered, replaced by something foreign, something alive. Hours dissolved into an agonizing battle with his own flesh, leaving him drained and trembling.

Then the fever came.

It raged through him, a relentless fire consuming him from within. His body burned as if his blood had turned to molten lava. Each breath was a struggle, his lungs seizing with every shallow gasp. His vision blurred, fractured into kaleidoscopic patterns of light and shadow that mocked his pain. Sweat poured from him, soaking his clothes and pooling beneath him as he collapsed onto the cold floor of his lab.

But the fever wasn’t the worst of it.

The dreams were.

They plagued him, vivid and haunting. Every night, he saw —you—but never clearly. Your face was always shrouded, a figure bathed in warmth and light, tantalizingly close yet maddeningly unreachable. He reached for you in desperation, his hands clawing at the air, but you dissolved like smoke between his fingers. The dreams left him raw, his chest aching with a need he didn’t understand, a hunger that devoured him from the inside out.

He hated you for it.

But more than that, he hated himself.

This was no ordinary affliction. It wasn’t a poison he could purge or a wound he could suture. It was an invasion, insidious and all-encompassing, eating away at his sense of self. He felt like a man infected, his soul rotting under the weight of something he couldn’t name.

So, like any good surgeon would when faced with a corrupted limb, he resolved to amputate.

It was the only way.

The pull was leading him to you, drawing him like a moth to a flame. He would let it. He would follow it to its source, find you—whatever you were—and cut you out of his life like a tumor.

But the thought of severing the connection wasn’t entirely free of dread. A part of him—a small, festering part—craved the pull. It was a dark, twisted hunger that whispered to him in the dead of night, promising solace if only he let himself fall deeper to consume you.

He despised it. Yet he couldn’t ignore it. He would end this affliction. He had no choice. He wouldn’t allow himself to be controlled- not anymore.

Author's note- I still haven't gotten to grips with Law yet, I am near the end of the Dressrosa Arc and generally did not think he would win so this is a little bit of an adventure.

Also as Sanji did also win I am writing his arc now. If you have anything suggestions for his reader let me know.

[pomrania]

D&D Spells for TMA Entities

Since I'm currently on a The Magnus Archives kick, I thought I might as well look through the sourceboks, and go over which spells would fit with which Powers. Might also work as inspiration for flavouring in unrelated D&D games.

Spells marked with a (x) are from Xanathar; everything else is from the PHB. This isn't complete; more spells will be added as I write up description for each of the Entities associated with them.

For simplicity's sake, all the "fire" spells that are only associated with Desolation: Aganazzar's Scorcher (x) / Burning Hands / Create Bonfire (x) / Fireball / Fire Bolt / Fire Shield / Fire Storm / Flame Blade / Immolation (x) / Produce Flame / Scorching Ray / Searing Smite / Wall of Fire

Animate Objects Stranger: It shouldn't be moving, yet it is.

Antimagic Field End: Even magic itself shall eventually die.

Arcane Gate Spiral: Doors appear wherever you want them to.

Arms of Hadar Dark: You carry the night within you, and the night is hungry. Web: Spider legs sprout from your form and thrash about, sucking the life out of those they touch.

Banishment Dark: You send someone to commune with your god for a little while, somewhere that light never existed; the place may be "harmless", but they don't know that. Lonely: Spend some time, completely alone. Spiral: A door opens on your target, and they wander the endless halls. Vast: Enjoy the endless falling, for a moment.

Blindness/Deafness Dark: It's a gift, really. End: Temporary death of the senses. Lonely: When you can't see or can't hear, you are cut off from others; as you always were. Web: You seal shut the target's eyes or ears with fine silken threads.

Call Lightning Vast: The sky's power is your own.

Calm Emotions End: There's no point in feeling, when death will take us all eventually. Lonely: You're distant from everything, including what you might feel. Web: You can still feel the terror or anger or joy; but it's distant, and something prevents it from determining your actions.

Charm Person / Charm Monster (x) Spiral: You've always been their good friend, even if you just met. Web: They will do what you want, because they like you.

Clairvoyance Beholding: Your eyes aren't limited to what you have in your head.

Comprehend Languages Beholding: Nothing shall be a barrier to your understanding.

Compulsion Web: You tug the strings to drag them around.

Control Flames (x) Dark: Extinguishing and dimming only. Desolation: It only takes a spark; and you'll make sure that that spark heads to where it can cause the most devastation.

Cordon of Arrows Stranger: Imagine the looks on their faces when an arrow starts shooting itself!

Create Food and Water Corruption: Even as you chew and swallow them, the summoned insects won't stop moving. Flesh: You won't like where it comes from, but it DOES technically create something that can be eaten for nutrients. (Optional: requires material components of a blade and a fleshy body, which can include the caster.)

Crown of Madness Slaughter: Sometimes you need to encourage them a bit before they start killing. Web: So many people already want to cause harm, it only takes a tiny nudge to direct that desire.

Cure Wounds Corruption: Cancerous growths seal shut any injuries you may have. Flesh: It hurts, a lot, but it will cure your injuries. Up to you to decide if it's worth it. Stranger: Wood and plastic meld to your form and fix any breaks; after enough of these, you'll look more like patchwork than a person. Web: Your wounds are stitched closed by phantom spiders; they leave behind them a silken embroidery where your scars would have formed.

Darkvision Beholding: Night is no protection against your gaze. Buried: Deep underground, away from the sky and the sun, you can see perfectly. Dark: "Needing light" is for the weak.

Death Ward End: Whenever this spell triggers, somebody else dies, instead of you, and you are aware of it.

Detect Evil and Good / Detect Magic Beholding: It doesn't matter if it's hidden; you know.

Detect Poison and Disease Beholding: If you spare the effort to look, nobody can secretly poison you. Corruption: Like calls to like, and you can feel others that have been touched by your patron.

Detect Thoughts Beholding: Even within your own mind, you're still being watched.

Disguise Self Spiral: If you absolutely need to, you can look normal. Stranger: Even if they've seen you before, you can still be unfamiliar.

Disintegrate End: You leave nothing behind.

Dispel Magic End: Against death itself, mere "magic" cannot stand.

Dominate Beast / Dominate Monster / Dominate Person Web: Sometimes you need a more direct control.

Dragon's Breath (x) Flesh: The potential is there within each body, and you can release it.

Earthbind (x) Buried: Flight shall be no escape.

Eldritch Blast Slaughter: Distance can't stop the killing.

Enemies Abound (x) Lonely: No matter how many people are with you, nobody is truly on your side. Spiral: You can't trust your senses; it's best to assume that everyone is a danger. Stranger: Everyone seems unfamiliar, and you know they mean to hurt you. Web: Maybe they don't want to hurt you, but they're being controlled, they're dangerous to you.

Enhance Ability Corruption: There's so much strength to be had, if you let the bug take over your weak form. Flesh: The body will eventually fall back into its normal state, but for now, it is at peak performance. (Optional: only for Constitution, Strength, or Dexterity.) Stranger: If you can use someone's skin, you can tap into their power. (Optional: requires material component of a piece of skin from a creature with a high score in the desired ability.)

Etherealness Lonely: Nobody can touch you and nobody can see or hear you.

Expeditious Retreat Hunt: The name is misleading; you don't retreat, you CHASE.

Eyebite Beholding: Being seen by you is dangerous. End: You hold the power of death within you, and can bestow aspects of it with but a glance.

False Life Corruption: You're part of something greater than yourself, and it protects you from harm. End: You know death well; you can place yourself a little bit farther away from it. Flesh: Anything will have to get past your vestigial organs to deal actual harm. Stranger: So much of your body is made of things that look like you but aren't you.

Feign Death End: If you pretend to have already been taken, maybe death won't take you. Lonely: They left you behind because they thought you were dead.

Find the Path Beholding: The way to go is obvious.

Find Traps Beholding: Your eyes are drawn to what you need to know about, to avoid.

Fly Vast: There's nothing more delightful than finally being free of the need to set your feet somewhere.

Fog Cloud Corruption: Spores and tiny insects answer the call, and form a thick cloud. Dark: It's not true darkness, but it will do. Lonely: There might be nobody else around. Vast: Who knows how far it is beyond, when you're enveloped in cloud?

Foresight Beholding: You can't see the future; but you can see all the factors affecting what's around you, and that's a close approximation.

Freedom of Movement Hunt: You will not slow your chase. Slaughter: Nothing can stand in the way of violence. Vast: You will not be held down.

Friends Web: People just need a little encouragement to do what you want them to, at times.

Geas Web: Your will shall be done, or there will be consequences.

Gentle Repose Buried: The earth protects what is entrusted to its care. Flesh: Keep the meat from going bad.

Goodberry Corruption: Insects and fungi are your friends, and provide so much nutrition. Flesh: It's not a berry; you can still eat it, but it's not a berry.

Gust (x) Lonely: Give yourself some personal space. Vast: You are intimately acquainted with both wind and distance.

Heroism Slaughter: Don't let injury or fear hold you back from hurting others.

Hold Monster / Hold Person Vast: Vertigo prevents you from moving. Web: You know you can move; but for some reason, you choose not to.

Identify Beholding: Knowledge just comes to you.

Illusory Dragon (x) Dark: Shadows take an intimidating form. (Optional: the breath weapon can only be necrotic.)

Inflict Wounds Corruption: Skin rots at your touch. End: Tissue death. Desolation: Liquefied fat. Flesh: You control the blood and muscles and bones in their body, and can damage them as you will. (Optional: caster can choose to deal bludgeoning, piercing, or slashing damage, instead of necrotic.) Slaughter: No weapon, no problem. Web: You start to drain them dry.

Insect Plague Corruption: Share the love with everyone.

Investiture of Stone (x) Buried: The earth's embrace stays with you, even when you get up.

Investiture of Wind (x) Vast: Carry the sky with you.

Invisibility Lonely: If nobody knows you are there, then you're basically alone.

Knock Spiral: It was never locked.

Legend Lore Beholding: If it's important, you will know it.

Levitate Vast: Height is what you tell it to be. Web: Invisible strings hold you up.

Locate Animals or Plants / Locate Object Beholding: You have eyes everywhere, and you can tap into them just enough to find what you seek and not be overwhelmed.

Locate Creature Beholding: Nobody can hide from the eyes that see all. Hunt: Without a direction, there's no hunt.

Maddening Darkness (x) Dark: This is everything you desire for the world. End: You create a small area that displays what awaits people when they die.

Mage Hand Corruption: Insects swarm at your willing, to manipulate what you direct. Spiral: Why should you have to touch something in order to move it?

Mass Suggestion Web: Spin your influence even further.

Maximilian's Earthen Grasp (x) Buried: Share the embrace of the earth; either they'll learn to love it, or they'll die, win/win situation.

Mending Spiral: Apparently it wasn't broken, after all.... Stranger: Parts of the object come to life and knit themselves back together.

Meteor Swarm Desolation: Such utter destruction of everything in its path, it's glorious.

Mind Spike (x) Beholding: Once you've seen someone, there is no hiding from you.

Mirage Arcane Spiral: "Reality" is but a plaything, and "stability" is only an illusion; even the ground under your feet isn't how it seems.

Mislead Spiral: Even your apparent presence is a lie.

Misty Step Dark: You dissolve into shadows, or your form melts in the light, then you appear someone more suited to your tastes. Lonely: You don't have to stay with them for one second longer than you wish.

Mordenkainen's Private Sanctum Dark: "Being seen" is antithetical to your nature. Stranger: No prying eyes allowed.

Nondetection Dark: Your truth stays hidden. Stranger: They can't see you coming in advance.

Nystul's Magic Aura Spiral: One more lie to tell.

Passwall Spiral: Walls are, at best, only a suggestion.

Phantasmal Force / Phantasmal Killer Spiral: It's all in your mind, of course; but it will still hurt you.

Power Word Kill End: Death is unavoidable.

Power Word Pain (x) Desolation: Their agony is delightful to you. Hunt: You haven't torn into your prey yet, but you describe how your teeth will rend their flesh, and their imagination cripples them.

Protection from Poison Corruption: It will not harm you; it loves you.

Scrying Beholding: You cast your sight outwards, to view that which you seek.

See Invisibility Beholding: You can see what would be concealed from all else. Hunt: Prey can try and hide from you; it won't work. 

Seeming Spiral: Appearance was only ever an illusion to begin with.

Shadow of Moil (x) Dark: The embrace of the dark is a home to you, and a weapon against those who would hurt you.

Silence Dark: This is the natural state of the world. End: All sound dies.

Silent Image Spiral: You can see it, but it isn't real, and was never real.

Skywrite (x) Vast: The expanse is beautiful, and also informative.

Slow Spiral: You are ripped from the natural flow of time, cast into a world that moves too fast. Vast: Hard to move when you feel like every step will send you falling over the edge.

Spare the Dying End: It wasn't your time. Yet. Flesh: It's important to keep the meat fresh until you need it.

Staggering Smite Slaughter: They don't know how to react to the sheer force of your violence.

Stinking Cloud Corruption: You corrupt the very air that others breathe.

Stoneskin Buried: The earth's embrace surrounds you and protects you. Desolation: Wax is difficult to meaningfully damage. (Optional: caster only.) Flesh: Your meat is thick. Stranger: Flesh becomes as resilient as plastic.

Suggestion Web: It's the only sensible course of action.

Thunder Step (x) Vast: The sky sends you on your way, striking out at those who would hold you back.

Toll the Dead (x) End: Once death already has a grip on someone, it gets harder to resist. Slaughter: The pipes mark your doom.

Tongues Beholding: You are the common language.

True Seeing Beholding: There are eyes that cannot be fooled by anything, and you have access to them.

Unseen Servant Dark: The darkness caters to your whims. (Optional: can't be cast in bright light.) Stranger: Around you, objects do actually pick themselves up.

Web Dark: Shadows take physical form, and bar the way. (Optional: the webs dissipate if they take radiant damage.) Web: Duh.

Zone of Truth Beholding: They can try to hide their stories, but they can't lie to you.

[palettepainter]

Hey what are your guy's quirk names and/or hero names

Drawing that out would take me ages so I’ll just write down here what their quirks and hero names (if they have on) so far. This list will only be including my MHA NG’s that are open to my ask blog 

Oruka (Gang Orca X OC): Orcinus - he can do whatever an orca can even on land, orcinus grants the user enhanced strength and speed, especially in the water. It also comes with the power to produce hypersonic waves that can paralyze targets instantly  

Hero name: Oruka 

Ryunosuke (Bubble girl X Centipeder): Venom bubble - Ryunosuke’s quirk works similar to his mothers, only he can create bubbles from the palms of his hands which are made from venom as a side affect of his slight centipede apperance he got from his father.

Hero name: *doesn’t have one yet* 

Rekkei (Fatgum X OC - adopted): Strong arm - strong arm allows the user to rotate their shoulders repeatedly, allowing them to throw an assault of powerful punches. From his biological mothers side he also has increased speed and hearing

Hero name: Knuckle Duster

Shosha (Hawks X Rumi): Fierce wing - Fierce wing grants the user two large wings covered in feathers in which the user can manipulate freely at will using their mind

Hero name (may change): Gado, translates to guardian

(Any NG’s with their name like this is a NG to one of the MHA villain's (including the Hasaikai), in my NGAU the LoV consists only of Compress, Dabi, Spinner and Toga (aged up), they’re a much more minor group of villians now since their downfall but I figured the league would still attempt to try and take down the hero system, but they do so in a more discreet way by sending their kids into UA as sort of spies)

Jin (Toga X Mustard): Blood control - Blood Control allows the user to manipulate their own blood after it has left their body.Once the blood is out in the open air, the user can freely control its flow and movements, as well as harden it to immobilize foes. Blood Control also appears to allow the user to go unaffected by levels of blood loss that would normally be fatal.

Hero name: *doesn’t have one yet*

Hana (Snipe X Midnight): Homing -  Homing allows Hana to control the trajectory of her projectiles with perfect precision. As affect of her mothers quirk, whatever bullet she uses will burst with a sleep inducing aroma once it collects with something

Hero name: Sharp shooter

Furu (Bakugo X Sero - adopted): Vibrate - Vibrate allows Furu to create vibrations or shockwaves, which can travel through virtually any medium, most notably she uses this ability to shake things she touches with her hands. Vibrate allows Furu to control the speed and strength of her vibrations, including how long the intervals are between tremors

Hero name: *doesn’t have one yet*

Kiru (Setsuno X Female hero): Razor sharp - Razor Sharp allows Kiru to produce large blades from his body. Kiru’s blades can come in a variety of shapes and sizes, and from any part of her body. These blades are strong enough to cut through metal pipes (which are commonly made up of steel or iron), and durable enough to withstand a point-blank explosion.

Hero name: Sword hero: Switchblade 

Furora (Kamui X MT Lady): Nature - Nature allows Furora to produce and control any plant life from her arms and allow it to grow to extreme sizes. By touching a different plant she will be able to make that plant grow out from her arms, if she hasn’t been able to touch anything of nature then she will only be able to produce bark from her body life her father

Hero name (may change): Nature hero: Shinrin

Okami (Hounddog X OC): Dog - Dog gives Okami an increased sense of smell to the point he can tell how many people were inside a forest from outside. It also gives him the characteristics of a dog, including fur, claws and sharp teeth

Hero name: Tracking hero: Silent Howl

Yurei (Mimic X OC): Poltergeist - Poltergeist allows Yurei to telekinetically manipulate objects and people close to him.

Hero name: *doesn’t have one yet*

Jaakuna (Compress X OC): Magic - Magic allows the user to produce a glittery pink like dust from the palms of their hands, they can either create it slowly or create it in a mini explosion from their hand. Jaakuna can either teleport through this dust, or harden it at will to create bridges or platforms 

Hero name: Magic Hero: Phantom

TJ (Taishiro Junior - Fatgum X OC): Arachnid - Arachnid grants the user the abilities of a spider, TJ can produce strings of webbing from his wrists, climb buildings with ease and is also gifted with a spider sense that alerts him of danger. As a side affect of his fathers quirk he can also store up energies from others attacks and use that energy to make his own attacks stronger

Hero name (may change): Arachidy

Koneko (Jeanist X Ragdoll): Fiber master - fiber master allows Koneko to control all types of cloth, being capable of telekinetic dominance over the threads that compose them. Targets are unable to resist its power as long as they are wearing clothes.

Hero name: Stringer

Taimatsu (Todoroki X Yaoyorozu): Hellflame - Hellflame is an extremely powerful quirk that allows Taimatsu pyrokinetic abilities. Taimatsu is able to create large fire blasters to incinerate his opponents, as well as cover his body in flames. Changing the temperature of the flames is possible as well, which means that their damage output is capable of increasing or decreasing depending of Taimatsu’s wishes.

Hero name: Fire hero: Ignite

Nikko (Mirio X Amajiki): Manifest -  Manifest grants Nikko the ability to enhance his limbs with the characteristics of anything he consumes. Nikko manifesting Takoyaki into tentacle fingers. Nikko can manifest certain traits of any food she’s eaten while it's still active within her digestive system.

Hero name: *doesn’t have one yet*

Hoseki (Shoji X Hagakure): Invisible limbs - Invisible limbs lets Hoseki create two extra pair of arms from her back. These limbs start off invisible when she first creates them but they gradually become visible once they’re fully formed. These extra limbs are much more larger and powerful then her normal arms, and she can easily carry a person with them

Hero name: *doesn’t have one yet*

Kita (Kaminari x Jiro): Electric wave - Kita can produce an electric wave to the rhythm of his heartbeat. Using his earlobes shaped like headphones he can plug them into a variety of objects and also extend them to long lengths. By plugging his earjacks into an electrical appliance Kita can take away electricity and store it in his body to make his attacks stronger

Hero name: Electric hero: Shock

Senshi (Kirishima X Mina): Acid -  Acid allows Sneshi to create corrosive liquid from his skin, his skin being naturally resistant to the acid he produces. As an affect from his fathers quirk Senshi can harden his acid to make protective shields or weapons

Hero name (may change): Crafting hero: Molten

Yari (Tetsuetetsue X Kendo) - Iron fist: Steal fist allows Yari to turn the skin along his arms to steal, as an affect of his mothers quirk he’s great at hand to hand combat and can also grow his fists to large sizes

Hero name: Iron Gauntlet

Jizuko (Monoma X Pony) - Copy cannon: Jiuzko can shoot off a total of six of her horns as a time to create horn missiles, her horn grows back instantly though she can only control up to four of her horn missiles at a time. By touching someone Jizuko can copy their quirk, and the affects of those quirks will change the power levels of the horns she shoots off. For example copying Yari’s quirk qill turn her horns into iron. Jizuko can copy multiple quirks at a time, and the affects of those quirks will continue to remain active even when Jizuko isn’t using them. The more quirks she copies the shorer the time gets for her to use them before the affects of her quirk wear off

Hero name: Rocket Launcher

Runa (Tokoyami X Tsuyu) - Harpie: Harpie allows Runa to gain characteristics of a bird when she pleases, she can turn her arms into wings and her feet into claws which allow her the ability of flight and allow her to grip more securely onto objects. This quirk also gives her enhanced speed and accuracy - however, if her dark shadow is outside of her body Runa will be unable to alter her body, and like Tokoyami, her quirk grows stronger in the dark.

Hero name: Twilight hero: Eclipse 

Toshinori (Deku X Uruaka) - Gravity: Similar to Uruaka’s quirk Toshinori can decrease gravities affect on objects with his right hand by placing all five fingers on the object, however by using his left hand he can increase gravities pull and make an object heavier. Toshinori can control the movement of objects he uses his quirk on and can cancel the affects at will

Hero name: Comet

Subarashi (Deku X Uruaka) - Fire breath: Fire breath allows the user to produce flames from their mouth, Subarashi can control the direction and temperature of these flames as well as their size.

Hero name: Draguna

[hamlets-ghost-zaddy]

st. jude (the patron of lost causes)

Part 5/8

Donald Malarkey x Reader

The ghosts crowding the corners of your vision, hanging in the dark corners of the hospital tent, under the cots, and behind the cupboards of medical supplies tell you time passes.

As the faces of the soldiers—cheeks soft and rounded with boyhood—fade in detail, you know it’s been days since Buck Compton was packed up into the back of a truck and Malarkey rode back into the Ardennes. The phantom of Buck himself (the ghosts were often undiscerning, not really caring if they were alive or dead, and haunted you regardless) had turned into a smudge of icy blue eyes and pale shocks of hair that you’d swear, if you glanced at his former cot fast enough, he still occupied. So, time has passed; exactly how much, you’d have to ask Constance, but then, it is almost better not to know. So, Malarkey still inhabits a corner of your thoughts, thoughts you’ve disciplined yourself to only turn to in the quiet moments of eating a meal or in the dark moments before you fall into sleep. And, it’s okay, you’re okay (or whatever ‘okay’ means in this damn war.)

You find yourself reaching for St. Jude in the first few days after you give it Malarkey; your fingers brush against the soft cotton of your nursing uniform, against the smooth skin of your collarbone, and for one stomach-yanking, swelling moment, you think you’ve lost it. Yet, the memory will resurface—flooding your senses with rich soil brown eyes and a laugh just how you’d thought it’d be—and those nerves calm. You become entirely calm. And, when you can, you step outside the hospital tent to let your breath fog in front of you, holding your arms tight across your chest, and you look to the tree-line crowding the hospital’s field.

The string—you’ve started to think of it as a string, something that tugs taut when he’s gone and goes slack when he’s near—seems to vibrate, plucked with an invisible hand, when you look at the trees and think that somewhere (maybe a mile away, maybe ten miles away) Malarkey is looking toward the hospital and pretending to see you, too.

It’s Constance, infinite in her facets and multitudes in her wisdom, who tells you.

You’re organizing the supply tent, trying to resort some semblance of order after a swarm of orderlies practically threw the latest replenishment of plasma in without any regard (and you don’t really feel like being yelled at Schroder again, thank you very much). Constance hurries through the tent flap, practically tripping over her feet in her rush. She’s puffing, but manages to get out, “Stop what you’re doing; we’re moving.”

Turning away from digging through a box of plasma, you blink up at her, clipboard falling limply to your side. “What? Seriously? I just finished that side of—” you begin to gripe.

Constance rushes on. “They’ve finally taken Foy.”

“Foy?” you repeat, the name sounding familiar. “And I’m hoping you mean ‘us’ by ‘they.’”

She shoos a hand at you. “Of course I do; our troops, at least. Easy Company,” she concludes, face splitting with a grin. Her eyes are fucking twinkling.

You eye her warily. “Okay?”

“Easy Company,” she repeats, expression slackening slightly when you don’t react. She tsks, tossing her hands. “Oh, come on; it’s the company Lieutenant Compton and your Sergeant serve in. They’ve taken Foy, and they’re on to some other towns today and tomorrow. They’re coming off the line.”

Your stomach does acrobatics at the phrase ‘your sergeant,’ at the thought of Malarkey in the fever pitch of battle for three days in a row over some tiny provincial French villages (you decide with an iron conviction that if Malarkey is hurt while fighting over a goddamn village, you’ll take on the entire German Army and give them a piece of your mind). Tempering the nerves making your voice wobbly, the excitement stoking like a fire in your chest, you manage: “What does this have to do with us moving?”

“Well, we’re following the front,” Constance replies practically, not to be put out by your sensible response. “So, they move, we move.” Your lips twitch, a barely repressed grin, and Constance beams. She steps to your side, squeezing your hand and you squeeze back. You both look around at the heaps of supplies around us.

You say: “Let’s get going moving this shit, then.”

The locations of the evacuation hospitals are a continuous parade of fields with crackling dried grass underfoot and thin, gray-barked trees standing sentry at the perimeter. The new location isn’t any different.

Your shepherding the few new patients already received from the line—all the ones you had before were moved on to a field hospital, no point hauling them along with the cots and pillows and threadbare blankets and crates upon crates of red-cross emblazoned medical supplies—when an orderly roars up in Jeep. “Nurse!” he calls, waving to get your attention as he takes a flying leap from the Jeep.

(It takes a mighty feat of restraint to keep from rolling your eyes; the hotshot’s going to hurt himself driving and throwing himself around like that.)

“A moment, Private,” you reply, waving a corporeal to a cot near the door and settling him before turning back to the orderly. Only to yourself would you admit you enjoyed making Jeep-driving orderlies wait on you. They always came roaring into the hospital, a Hermes with ill omens on their heels, hat akimbo as if they thought it made them look dashing. Only after you’ve fixed the corporeal with a second pillow, a generous serving of stew, and a glass of watery lemonade, you turn to the orderly, hands in your uniform pockets. “What can I do for you, Private?”

He perks up. God, he’s young. “You’re needed on the line, ma’am.” Pausing, he tacks on, as if you protested: “Nowhere dangerous, of course. A convent where some guys are staying for the evening.”

“What’s the injury?” you ask.

The orderly hesitates, worrying his hat in his hands.

“Out with it, Private.”

He coughs and finally manages: “Shot in the, uh, bottom, ma’am. The medic says it needs stitches, but doesn’t have the supplies.”

“Right,” you reply, carefully clinging to your professionalism for fear of laughing. Someone getting shot is never a laughing matter (even if it is the ass). Still, you can’t wait to tell Constance. “I’ll grab some supplies to give this medic, my bag, and I’ll be ready to go.”

The Jeep skids to a stop in the yard of a gray-stone abbey an hour or so after dusk, and you grind your teeth to keep from admonishing the orderly for his driving. You feel like your brain has been whisked around in your skull.

Between clenched teeth, you say, “Thank you, Private.” Clambering down from the Jeep, you could kiss the ground. Instead, you content yourself with arranging your medicine bag’s strap on your shoulder and lean to grab the box of supplies for this company’s medic.

“Sure thing, ma’am,” the orderly replies. “Do you want me to wait for you, ma’am?”

“If you’re not needed elsewhere, I’d appreciate it,” you reply, wanting to point out that, if he didn’t wait, you’d be literally stranded. Politely, you keep this to yourself, and turn away as the orderly turns off the Jeep’s engine, lounging back and (by the looks of it) readying for a nap.

Gusting out a sigh, you crunch across the convent’s gravel yard and into the main abbey. The inside is modest, a choir singing behind the pulpit and—music, it’s been months since you heard music. You stop, closing your eyes and sighing as the women’s voices soak into your ears, your mind, your heart. They’re singing in French, but the language doesn’t matter. It’s universal.

A cough near you, and you open your eyes to the rest of the church. A collection of soldiers—haggard, streaked in mud and sweat and flecks of dried blood—are draped on the pews, in the choir loft, all sleeping or on the verge of it. They look hollow, completely empty inside their drab green uniforms, and you’ve only seen shadows like those living on their faces on the soldiers who came through the hospital with a diagnosis of battlefield fatigue. You want to help, yet, your eyes catching on a man propped up on a stretcher next to a pale-skinned medic, you only have time for the one. There’s never time for saving everyone, and physical wounds are easiest to heal.

You go to stand before the medic, announcing yourself with a gentle: “Hey. I’m Nurse Y/N.”

He blinks up at you, mouth twitching into a fleeting smile. You wonder when the last time he smiled was. In a low drawl, lower than you expected from such a slight, pale man, he replies, “Good to see you. I’m Roe.”

The man on the stretcher at Roe’s shoulder props himself up on his elbows, a grin quirking up along with a thick, Italian eyebrow. “And I’m Frank.”

“Nice to meet you both,” you say, before nodding to the box of supplies in your arms. “These are for you, Roe. The orderly mentioned you were low on supplies.” His eyes spark as they look at the box, and he accepts it with eager hands. His barely-contained joy reminds you of a teenager on Christmas, attempting to pent up a boyish delight with a perceived dignity. You offer: “Everything I could get my hands on: morphine, sulfa, bandages, plasma, surgery thread, some extra scissors and needles, too.”

His head perks up to you.

Not sure what that expression means, you add: “I hope you won’t need it much, though. I hear you’re coming off the line.”

Roe nods. “Yeah, that’s the word but I really appreciate this still.” He gestures with the box.

“Don’t thank me,” you say, the sincerity in his voice making you shift. You determinedly face Frank, presumably the man shot in the, uh, ‘bottom.’ “Are you the soldier I was sent to patch up?”

Frank, without a measure of abashment, says, “Guilty, ma’am.”

You snort, you can’t help it in the face of his bravado, before asking Roe, “Standard procedure?”

“Sure: sulfa, bandages. Sewed him yesterday morning, but the stitches tore,” Roe says, mouth twisting with regret and you know he blames himself for causing Frank more pain.

Your fingers twitch at your side, wanting to rest a comforting hand on Roe’s shoulder. You bury your hands in the fold of your skirts to keep your hands at your side. “Good, well, we’ll get you patched up and moving again, Frank. Get you off this stretcher.”

The convent’s abbess shows you, Roe, and Frank to a cloister brightened by a heavy candelabra stand blazing with candles. It’s more than enough light—and privacy—to sew up Frank’s ass wound (done without blushing on your part, with an extraordinary amount of puns on Frank’s part, and multiple chuckles and put-upon head-shakes on Roe’s part). When you’re done, you wash your stitching needle from a basin provided by the abbess before sterilizing it over one of the candle flames.

Roe assists Frank in arranging himself before going to fetch another man to help with Frank’s stretcher.

Frank watches you as you move around the cloister, eyes tracking how you pass the needle through the flames. “What are you doing?” he asks after a beat.

“Sterilizing the needle,” you reply. “It helps kill germs and makes it clean to use for another ass injury.” You throw a grin over his shoulder.

He snorts, shaking his head. “Do you have specific needles you only use for ass injuries?”

Quite seriously, you assure, “Of course. I have a whole box of needles labeled ‘ass, toes, fingers, nose.’”

Frank hoots at that before cutting himself off with a groan. You frown, moving to his side but he waves a hand at your concern, settling to lay on his back. “Don’t worry about it, just a little pain but it’s gone now.” He folds his hands on his stomach, shooting you a grin before his eyes rove back to the ceiling. Silence as you stow away the needle and the other supplies used. Then: “How did you get to being a nurse?”

You still, fingers suspended, and turn the question over in your head: how did you get to being a nurse?

“I…” you begin, only to sputter into silence. “I...” No words come. You can’t remember what took you to the Army Nurse Corp recruitment center nearly two years ago.

Roe returns then, followed by two men, their faces shadowy beyond the reach of the candlelight. One of the men steps forward to grab one end of the stretcher as Roe gets the other, and you maneuver your way into a corner of the cloister to allow them space to finagle the stretcher out and Frank on it. You wave a hand to Frank as he calls his thanks to you, shaking your head as he sings your praises as ‘the smartest, most talented nurse in the whole damn war.’

Only when the stretcher is out of sight, the cloister falling to silence, that you realize the second man still stood in the shadows. You squint against the gloom, but can’t distinguish his features. “Soldier?” you say. “Is there something I can do for you? Are you injured?”

A pause. He steps into the light.

A breath, halfway down to your lungs, rattles and cuts painfully short in your throat.

“Don,” you manage to get out when you remember how to breathe. Later, you’ll try to remember who moved first, because his arms are around you before you can think of another word, your nose is pressed into the lapel of his uniform, your fingers buried in the folds of his uniform. Into his chest, you whisper, “You’re safe, you’re safe, thank God, you’re safe.”

His nose is against your hair, his breath hot against your forehead, and the string between you is entirely slack. Entirely at ease. Memories no longer flood your senses; instead, it’s his physical presence—the solid goodness of him being so near—and you both allow time to drag by, taking minutes with it. The weeks between when you saw him last feel like an instant and a yawning expanse all at once. How can I live without him? you wonder, eyes closed and memorizing the feeling of his chest rising and falling under your ear. How can I, when I know now what his arms around me feels like?

He’s the next to speak. “I’ve lost so many people. So many friends.”

You want to look into his face, you want to check how many ghosts you see there, but his arms are tight around your ribs and you don’t want to pull away for anything. What he needs from you isn’t a nurse to diagnosis the horrors he’s seen and deduce the amount of sympathy and care to dole out. So, you move your arms around his neck; the twin chains of his icon and St. Jude’s necklace are slivers of coolness against your skin. His fingers bury into the blue cotton of your uniform, and he clings to you desperately. You cling to him, equally as desperate.

“I saw them die; a shell fell directly on their foxhole and…”

‘And nothing was left,’ is implied. Nothing left for Malarkey to grasp tightly in his hands, in his heart, and remember them by. The only thing that remained, the only indication of their lives, was a burnt-out foxhole. You remember that feverish expression he wore last time you saw him, and wondered how recently the loose of his friends had been.

You don’t say you’re sorry—though you are—because you’d just be repeating yourself. He knows you hurt for him by your hands against his neck, your body pressed against his, and words would be entirely redundant. Tears, tepid and heavy, seep into your hair as his shoulder begin to shake, and you let him cry into you. You will hardness into your arm muscles, so he’ll feel their weight and now you’re here—you’re not going anywhere—and he can cry into you as long as he needs.

When his shoulders still, slouching with the effort of silent sobs, you move your fingers to tangle into his hair, pressing a kiss against the skin just above St. Jude’s icon. He stills, his arms going rigid, and then a wave floods his limbs, making his droop and melt under your lips. He presses a kiss against your forehead.

It’s appropriate you’re in a church, tucked away into the dark recesses of a holy sanctuary, because you send a silent song of thanks to St. Jude, to anyone listening, for the perfectness of being in his arms. For the goodness of Malarkey, for allowing you to comfort him and him to comfort you.

(You could curse the orderly, bumbling and loud and calling your name, that he had to get going and you needed to, too, if you wanted a ride. You draw out of Malarkey’s arms, feeling like you were tearing away a part of yourself from a whole, and see your regret reflected back in his eyes.)

[savetopnow]

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Too Many Cooks vs. Don't Hug Me I'm Scared: Decoding the Disturbing – Wisecrack Edition

The Loneliest Anime – The Philosophy of Neon Genesis Evangelion – Wisecrack Edition

The Philosophy of Jigsaw – Wisecrack Edition

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Is Black Panther's Killmonger the Best Villain Since the Joker? – Wisecrack Quick Take

[savetopnow]

2018-03-17 04 VIDEO now

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"IT'S NOT A MOON" — A Bad Lip Reading of Star Wars

"NFL 2018" — A Bad Lip Reading of the NFL

"TRUMP ANTHEM" — A Bad Lip Reading of Donald Trump

"[KARAOKE] Seagulls! (Stop It Now!)" — A Bad Lip Reading of The Empire Strikes Back

"CHRISTMAS IS HERE!" — A Bad Lip Reading of Donald Trump

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La de da de da de da de day oh

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outside

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TUTORIAL: Rigging the Ambiguous Cylinder for Animation

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Gateway to Sedona DEBUNK

The Unbearable Loneliness of Being Right on the Internet - Live at Skepticon Australia 2017

VFXcool: Back to the Future Trilogy (2/2)

CineFix

7 Things You (Probably) Didn't Know About Pan's Labyrinth

4 More of the Best Shots of All Time - Movie Lists

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Exurb1a

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Bear and Goose at the End of Everything

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String Theory Explained – What is The True Nature of Reality?

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The New York Times

Scene From ‘Star Wars: The Last Jedi’ | Anatomy of a Scene

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The Loneliest Anime – The Philosophy of Neon Genesis Evangelion – Wisecrack Edition

The Philosophy of Jigsaw – Wisecrack Edition

The Hidden Meaning in The Truman Show – Earthling Cinema

Is Black Panther's Killmonger the Best Villain Since the Joker? – Wisecrack Quick Take

The Philosophy of Christopher Nolan (Part 3) feat. Interstellar & Dunkirk – Wisecrack Edition

[savetopnow]

2018-03-11 22 VIDEO now

VIDEO

Bad Lip Reading

"NFL 2018" — A Bad Lip Reading of the NFL

"TRUMP ANTHEM" — A Bad Lip Reading of Donald Trump

"[KARAOKE] Seagulls! (Stop It Now!)" — A Bad Lip Reading of The Empire Strikes Back

"CHRISTMAS IS HERE!" — A Bad Lip Reading of Donald Trump

"HOSTILES ON THE HILL" — A Bad Lip Reading of The Empire Strikes Back

Bill Wurtz

unboxing video

maybe i could eat blades of grass

La de da de da de da de day oh

soap tips

outside

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TUTORIAL: Rigging the Ambiguous Cylinder for Animation

Quick D: Invisible Box Challenge

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The Unbearable Loneliness of Being Right on the Internet - Live at Skepticon Australia 2017

VFXcool: Back to the Future Trilogy (2/2)

CineFix

4 More of the Best Shots of All Time - Movie Lists

'The Shining' Meets 'Heathers' w/ Cory Finley, Director of 'Thoroughbreds'

Should 'Darkest Hour' Win Best Picture?

Will Phantom Thread Win Best Picture?

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Exurb1a

Feelings, Pictures, and Ideas: A very simple theory of why good stories are good

Bear and Goose at the End of Everything

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How Not to Do Brownies

Thoughts From Your Deathbed

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String Theory Explained – What is The True Nature of Reality?

Homeopathy Explained – Gentle Healing or Reckless Fraud?

Why Alien Life Would be our Doom - The Great Filter

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Wisecrack

The Loneliest Anime – The Philosophy of Neon Genesis Evangelion – Wisecrack Edition

The Philosophy of Jigsaw – Wisecrack Edition

The Hidden Meaning in The Truman Show – Earthling Cinema

Is Black Panther's Killmonger the Best Villain Since the Joker? – Wisecrack Quick Take

The Philosophy of Christopher Nolan (Part 3) feat. Interstellar & Dunkirk – Wisecrack Edition

[savetopnow]

2018-03-11 19 VIDEO now

VIDEO

Bad Lip Reading

"NFL 2018" — A Bad Lip Reading of the NFL

"TRUMP ANTHEM" — A Bad Lip Reading of Donald Trump

"[KARAOKE] Seagulls! (Stop It Now!)" — A Bad Lip Reading of The Empire Strikes Back

"CHRISTMAS IS HERE!" — A Bad Lip Reading of Donald Trump

"HOSTILES ON THE HILL" — A Bad Lip Reading of The Empire Strikes Back

Bill Wurtz

unboxing video

maybe i could eat blades of grass

La de da de da de da de day oh

soap tips

outside

Captain Disillusion

TUTORIAL: Rigging the Ambiguous Cylinder for Animation

Quick D: Invisible Box Challenge

Gateway to Sedona DEBUNK

The Unbearable Loneliness of Being Right on the Internet - Live at Skepticon Australia 2017

VFXcool: Back to the Future Trilogy (2/2)

CineFix

4 More of the Best Shots of All Time - Movie Lists

'The Shining' Meets 'Heathers' w/ Cory Finley, Director of 'Thoroughbreds'

Should 'Darkest Hour' Win Best Picture?

Will Phantom Thread Win Best Picture?

7 Things You (Probably) Didn't Know About Old School

Exurb1a

Feelings, Pictures, and Ideas: A very simple theory of why good stories are good

Bear and Goose at the End of Everything

Problems With Mind Uploading

How Not to Do Brownies

Thoughts From Your Deathbed

Kurzgesagt

String Theory Explained – What is The True Nature of Reality?

Homeopathy Explained – Gentle Healing or Reckless Fraud?

Why Alien Life Would be our Doom - The Great Filter

How to Make an Elephant Explode with Science – The Size of Life 2

Universal Basic Income Explained – Free Money for Everybody? UBI

Mealtime Videos

Dark Messiah of Might and Magic Review [14:42]

TIMELAPSE OF THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE [10:49]

Sengoku Jidai: Battle of Miyajima 1555 [14:36]

YouTube user Fall off the Map shares a typical day at McMurdo Station, Antarctica [8:55]

Jim Carrey Is An Asshole Method Actor [24:20]

Nerdwriter1

The Most Disturbing Painting

The Florida Project Should've Been Nominated

Mr. Bean Is A Master Of Physical Comedy

See With Your Ears: Spielberg And Sound Design

How Fleetwood Mac Makes A Song

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I think I captured my sons first existential crisis on video. Thanks MGMT!

Yoko Ono she's not using auto tune she's just terrible.

Space X just released a pretty awesome video of the Falcon Heavy Launch.

Hermione being annoyed for 8 movies straight.

Kid reviews Lil Yachty

TED Talks

3 creative ways to fix fashion's waste problem | Amit Kalra

The secret to great opportunities? The person you haven't met yet | Tanya Menon

Fashion that celebrates African strength and spirit | Walé Oyéjidé

Why I train grandmothers to treat depression | Dixon Chibanda

The virginity fraud | Nina Dølvik Brochmann and Ellen Støkken Dahl

The New York Times

I Was Assaulted. He Was Applauded. | NYT - Opinion

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Wendover Productions

The Logistics of Living in Antarctica

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Wisecrack

The Loneliest Anime – The Philosophy of Neon Genesis Evangelion – Wisecrack Edition

The Philosophy of Jigsaw – Wisecrack Edition

The Hidden Meaning in The Truman Show – Earthling Cinema

Is Black Panther's Killmonger the Best Villain Since the Joker? – Wisecrack Quick Take

The Philosophy of Christopher Nolan (Part 3) feat. Interstellar & Dunkirk – Wisecrack Edition

[savetopnow]

2018-03-11 16 VIDEO now

VIDEO

Bad Lip Reading

"NFL 2018" — A Bad Lip Reading of the NFL

"TRUMP ANTHEM" — A Bad Lip Reading of Donald Trump

"[KARAOKE] Seagulls! (Stop It Now!)" — A Bad Lip Reading of The Empire Strikes Back

"CHRISTMAS IS HERE!" — A Bad Lip Reading of Donald Trump

"HOSTILES ON THE HILL" — A Bad Lip Reading of The Empire Strikes Back

Bill Wurtz

unboxing video

maybe i could eat blades of grass

La de da de da de da de day oh

soap tips

outside

Captain Disillusion

TUTORIAL: Rigging the Ambiguous Cylinder for Animation

Quick D: Invisible Box Challenge

Gateway to Sedona DEBUNK

The Unbearable Loneliness of Being Right on the Internet - Live at Skepticon Australia 2017

VFXcool: Back to the Future Trilogy (2/2)

CineFix

4 More of the Best Shots of All Time - Movie Lists

'The Shining' Meets 'Heathers' w/ Cory Finley, Director of 'Thoroughbreds'

Should 'Darkest Hour' Win Best Picture?

Will Phantom Thread Win Best Picture?

7 Things You (Probably) Didn't Know About Old School

Exurb1a

Feelings, Pictures, and Ideas: A very simple theory of why good stories are good

Bear and Goose at the End of Everything

Problems With Mind Uploading

How Not to Do Brownies

Thoughts From Your Deathbed

Kurzgesagt

String Theory Explained – What is The True Nature of Reality?

Homeopathy Explained – Gentle Healing or Reckless Fraud?

Why Alien Life Would be our Doom - The Great Filter

How to Make an Elephant Explode with Science – The Size of Life 2

Universal Basic Income Explained – Free Money for Everybody? UBI

Mealtime Videos

TIMELAPSE OF THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE [10:49]

Sengoku Jidai: Battle of Miyajima 1555 [14:36]

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YouTube user Fall off the Map shares a typical day at McMurdo Station, Antarctica [8:55]

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Nerdwriter1

The Most Disturbing Painting

The Florida Project Should've Been Nominated

Mr. Bean Is A Master Of Physical Comedy

See With Your Ears: Spielberg And Sound Design

How Fleetwood Mac Makes A Song

Reddit Videos

I think I captured my sons first existential crisis on video. Thanks MGMT!

Space X just released a pretty awesome video of the Falcon Heavy Launch.

Hermione being annoyed for 8 movies straight.

Kid reviews Lil Yachty

Insanely complex guitar cover of Aha's Take On Me

TED Talks

3 creative ways to fix fashion's waste problem | Amit Kalra

The secret to great opportunities? The person you haven't met yet | Tanya Menon

Fashion that celebrates African strength and spirit | Walé Oyéjidé

Why I train grandmothers to treat depression | Dixon Chibanda

The virginity fraud | Nina Dølvik Brochmann and Ellen Støkken Dahl

The New York Times

I Was Assaulted. He Was Applauded. | NYT - Opinion

Stormy Daniels: Timeline of a Trump Scandal | NYT

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The Loneliest Anime – The Philosophy of Neon Genesis Evangelion – Wisecrack Edition

The Philosophy of Jigsaw – Wisecrack Edition

The Hidden Meaning in The Truman Show – Earthling Cinema

Is Black Panther's Killmonger the Best Villain Since the Joker? – Wisecrack Quick Take

The Philosophy of Christopher Nolan (Part 3) feat. Interstellar & Dunkirk – Wisecrack Edition